


The Fallen

by CJSpooks



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: LiveJournal, M/M, tgs, topgearslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-10
Updated: 2010-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:25:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJSpooks/pseuds/CJSpooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic for Franz Ferdinand's "The Fallen." A few moments with Jeremy and James.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fallen

_Some say ya troubled boy  
Just because you like to destroy  
All the things that bring the idiots joy  
Well, What's wrong with a little destruction?_

James walked into his study and saw Jeremy's shoulders shaking as he sat in front of the computer. He didn't need to worry that the man was crying, though, when he heard a snort accompanied by a giggle. He stepped forward and put a hand on the other man's head.

“What are you watching?”

“Video of the Morris Marina getting destroyed by a piano over and over. It's wonderfully satisfying. I could watch this all day.”

“There are other things you could be doing all day that are just as satisfying.”

Jeremy immediately turned the monitor off. “Why didn't you bring this up before, man!" His expression turned to pure lust. "You. Bed. Now.”

“Your vocabulary has dwindled to the level of a Neanderthal. Eager pillock."

 _Did I see you in a limousine  
Flinging out the fish and the unleavened  
Five thousand users fed today  
As you feed us  
Won't you lead us  
To be blessed_

For most of the day, they worked on another challenge film at the track. Since it was James' birthday, they wrapped early. Jeremy told him to go on home and put on a better shirt before he'd pick him up for a dinner he'd planned. Even though he knew Jeremy very well, James somehow had a vision in his mind that the man was just going to turn up in his Mercedes or Rangie to pick him up for a relaxing night at a restaurant with all their friends and a lot of alcohol.

So what he didn't expect to see was TV's Jeremy Clarkson turn up in a limosine (a real one, not one fabricated for a Top Gear challenge). Jeremy popped up through the moonroof. “Oi, Captain Slow! What do you think?”

“Bloody Nora!” James exclaimed as he stepped closer. “Clarkson, what have you done?”

“Hired a limo, obviously. It's your birthday and I thought I'd do something--”

“Over the top?”

“I was thinking 'extremely impressive and incredibly thoughtful', myself.”

“We're surely not going to turn up in that.”

“The paps will love it. And it's better than the ridiculous little Panda.” Jeremy lowered himself into the limo for a moment and came back up with a bottle of wine. “I even bought some high quality wine!”

“You knew it was high quality how?”

“Give me some credit, okay? I rang up the insufferable Oz Clarke. See the trouble I go to all for you? I was borderline civil to that bald sod.”

James smiled. This whole gesture was typical Jeremy. And he genuinely loved it. “Let's go on, then. I don't want to turn up late to my own party. I'll be teased enough for my age.”

“YES!” Jeremy did a dance and then cursed as he ungracefully lowered himself into the limosine to open the door for James.

 _So we stole and drank champagne  
On the seventh seal you said you never feel pain  
"And I never feel pain, won't you hit me again?"  
"I need a bit of black and blue to be a rotation"_

The party was a success. Jeremy and James, each with a bottle of champagne in their hands, were dropped off back to James' by the limo quite late. James had a plastic tiara on and Jeremy's shirt was untucked and half-open.

Fumbling with the keys, they let themselves in, leaning upon each other to stumble into the sitting room.

“Happy Birthday, James."

“Thank you for the lot, Jez.” James leaned up and kissed him.

“I wish I could have felt that. I seriously can't feel anything." Jeremy grabbed James' arm. "I want you to hit me.”

“How drunk are you?”

“It's perfect, okay? I want you to hit me so I remember this. No better way than with a black eye.”

“You're mad.”

“Not. Just hit me, James. Do it.”

 _In my blood I felt bubbles burst  
There was a flash of fist, an eyebrow burst  
You've a lazy laugh and a red white shirt  
I fall to the floor,  
Fainting at the sight of blood!_

In an out-of-body-experience moment, James felt disconnected to his hand, which balled into a fist. He closed his eyes and swung.

The fist connected cleanly with Jeremy's eye. The force of the punch sent both of them onto the couch. Jeremy groaned, sliding out from under James onto the floor. "That's not gone well."

James lunged for Jeremy, grabbing his shirt and pressing their lips together. After a moment, slightly breathless, James choked out, "You bastard!"

"I probably should be saying that to you."

"I punched you."

"I know. I'm not sure what I was thinking, or not thinking. Why I even asked you to do that."

James frowned. "I've left a mark."

"I'd rather have others from you. Ones that the viewing public won't see."

"I don't ever want to hurt you again." James poked Jeremy in the chest to emphasize the point. "Never make me hurt you again."

"I promise I won't." He chuckled. "I really didn't think you'd hit me that hard."

 _So I'm sorry if I ever resisted  
I never had a doubt that you ever existed  
I only have a problem when people insist on  
Taking their hate; placing it onto your name_

"I saw the paper," James said simply as walked into the kitchen. The story was supposed to be scandalous. The two-page spread was accompanied by pictures of Jeremy signing female fans' breasts at the pub and walking hand in hand with James later that night.

Jeremy sighed. "I don't get why people write this drivel. I'm not who they think I am. It's all lies...except for the bit about us being Top Queers."

"I know. You look like you've had quite a day."

"I've got a headache. Make me feel better?"

"Come with me and all will be well."

 _Yeah,  
You've already been,  
You've already seen  
That the fallen are the virtuous among us  
Walk among us  
Oh if you judge us,  
We're all damned._

Like a pair of teenagers, they left trail of clothes all the way to the bedroom. Fusker the cat was forcefully vacated from the bed by the impact of their entwined bodies hitting the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at topgearslash at LJ on Dec 10, 2010.


End file.
